Once
by TolkienGirl
Summary: 3x10. On the way to Regina's vault, Tink decides that she needs to have a word with Killian. Hookerbell friendship, Captain Swan. Nothing belongs to me but my feels!


**A/N: LOVED 3x10 and poor sad Killian's attempts to *forget* Emma with Tink. Yeah, like ****_that_**** was sincere. I also totally accept the head-canon that he propositioned Tink because he knew she'd say no. I just...LOVED it all. So, I got this idea...Tink gives him a little (kindly) get-a-grip talk.**

**Also, this was inspired by reading VickyVicarious's fabulous tumblr feed.**

"Hook. We need to talk."

He's tense already, she knows, but even so his shoulders stiffen slightly at his words. When he shoots her a glance, though, it's pure charm—a seductive smirk (almost) masking the pain in his eyes, just as it was before.

"Ready to take me up on my offer, love? It's hardly an opportune moment, I'll admit, but creativity is something I excel at, given my…limitations." For proof, he gives a flourish with his hook.

She huffs in frustration, losing the little breath she has left after trying to match his long strides. "Don't make yourself any more of an idiot than you have already." She gulps in a breath, then continues, "We only have a moment or two before Bae returns with the…magical coconut, or whatever it is."

"A clear reminder that we have far more important matters with which to concern ourselves than a…_heartfelt_ conversation." His tone drips with sarcasm, and he quickens his pace, causing her to nearly break into a run.

"_I'm_ not the one who got tipsy on Granny's ale and tried to proposition a fairy," Tink points out, losing patience. She catches the edge of his sleeve and jerks him to a halt. He stands quite still for a moment, staring upwards with an affectation of patience. She knows him too well to fall for his seeming nonchalance, however—the tight line of his jaw reveals that his teeth are clenched.

"I need to talk to you _because_ important things are happening. We're headed for a fight, that much is true, with Pan on the loose…" she shudders despite herself. "But the point is, I can't ignore the fact that you are throwing away a chance that—"

"This is about Emma, isn't it?" His eyebrow flicks up scornfully, but the name drags out from his lips as though it's torn from him, and he won't meet her gaze_ (she knows why)._

"Yes, it is. I know it isn't easy, but you'll destroy everything if you turn your insecurity into bitterness!"

"What insecurities?" he challenges, drawing his flask of rum from his pocket.

She snatches it from him as he lifts it to his lips. "Stop it."

He slips his hook around her wrist, neatly retrieving the rum from her grasp with his good hand. "You said it yourself, darling. We're headed for a fight. I fight better drunk."

"And there's the insecurity again." She shakes her head, wishing he would just…_listen_, for two seconds, because Bae _will_ be back any moment and they probably _are_ wasting time. "I'm not an expert on a lot of things, but true love happens to be one of my areas. And let me tell you, you _do_ have a chance. I've seen how you two—"

He cuts her off. "There's no chance. Not for me."

She stamps her foot, and even in his pain, a flicker of amusement crosses his features at her temper. "Why not?"

He leans forward ever so slightly, and even though she's got a firm handle on her dignity _(thank-you-very-much)_, his cerulean eyes, with all the recklessness of broken passions lingering in their depths, make her heart beat just a _little_ faster. "Why?" His voice, when he speaks, is all charm and vulnerability, and it hurts her to hear it, because _they were friends once…and how likely is that he has any friends left?_ "I'm just a one-handed pirate with a drinking problem."

It sounds like something Pan would say. He's slipping from her now, she can tell, and time's already running out. So she plays the last card she has. "Listen to me—_listen_ to me…_Killian._"

He looks at her then—_really_ looks at her. She wonders how it is that whenever (in their patchwork history) she's been able to actually see behind the mask he hates and has to wear, he looks so much younger, even while his eyes show how long he's suffered.

"Killian," she whispers…knowing the risk she's taking in saying it for a second time, "It took three hundred years for you to find someone again. Give _her_ a little time."

"I thought we'd agreed that there wasn't any time," he says, but the attempt at derision falls flat and she knows that he's only feinting a challenge because he's afraid of what will happen if he starts to believe.

"Time cannot stop true love," she says. "Emma's the savior. Do you think a little thing like Pan can stop her? She'll find a way. A way back to you."

She's talking in fairytale hopes now, and they both know it. But for some reason, he smiles—a real smile, not the empty, cynical smirk of before.

"Let's go," she says, and they start up again, but despite the impending doom he's matched his stride more considerately to hers.

"We're nearly there," he observes, after a moment, and she can see a peak-roofed stone structure through the trees.

She has something more to say. Once more, she grasps his sleeve. "Wait."

He scoffs at this, but stops obligingly. "You may be a fairy, lass, but you're like most women—always need just one more last word."

She laughs. "I'm done with my lecture. I only wanted to say…if we do get out of this alive, and you _behave yourself_, I will have that drink with you."

"Why not now?" he quips, and passes her his flask with a mocking bow.

She takes it and drinks, even though the world may well be about to end. The rum burns hard and rich in her throat, and she smiles, because _they were friends once._

**_Review? PLEASE? =)_**


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